


Thrill seekers

by french_anarchy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Assassin Sapnap, Badboyhalo genuinely terrifies me, Big Q also owns casinos so pogchamp?, Clay | Dream & Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Crime Fighting, Dream is problematic, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Georgenotfound concerns me, Gun Violence, Hybrids, Insane Wilbur Soot, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Mob Boss Quackity, Multi, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Organized Crime, Philza is also a mob boss, Protective Karl Jacobs, Pyromaniac Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Tags May Change, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is out of his fucking mind, everyone here is concerning and i am scared, georgenotfound is NOT what he seems and dream is exactly what he seems, most characters here wont appear until later, thrill seekers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/french_anarchy/pseuds/french_anarchy
Summary: “Techie, how bout a game of Russian roulette, hm?” Dream spins the revolver as he walks around the museum floor, breaking the glass meant to conserve artifacts but never taking the items inside the glass. He doesn’t need to.Techno uncrosses his legs, sliding off of the counter leaving the book behind. The hybrid takes slow, calculated steps towards the trigger happy blond; flicking his braid off of his shoulder. “Okay. Any rules you want to add in particular?” He reached his hand out for the gun, which Dream gave him happily.“Best three out of five?” Dream steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know the rules. Aim for the head. If they die, that’s a loss.” He shrugged, “and if they don’t, that’s a dub. Simple as that.”----or, Florida is a scary place.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 16
Kudos: 131





	1. rochambeau/roshambo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nekori_nyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekori_nyan/gifts).



> hello all! it's me, ya boy.  
> so, i finished writing this today and i also don't know how to tag so excuse how messy the tags are lmfao. i think this is kinda dark, mainly due to how the characters are portrayed, the groups/gangs the characters are involved in, and also the general disregard for life (mostly on dream's end). there's violence, not too graphic though.

“Oh hm.” Dream sighs as he looks out the window, surrounded by the police with more reinforcements on the horizon. He wasn’t panicked in the slightest, although he must admit, to see so many people so adamant on catching him is sort of exciting. He’s become sort of infamous over these last few years, mostly due to his ability to cause so much damage in so little time. 

After this, in fact, he was planning on going downtown to cause chaos with his newest partner, Technoblade. Seeing as the officers confirmed that it is in fact Dream, they most likely evacuated and shut down downtown and advised people to stay home until further notice. That’s no fucking fun. 

As he stares out the window, just itching for the thrill chaos gives him, he impulsively fishes out his revolver and checks the bullet compartment; six bullets inside, taunting him as his index finger fondles the trigger. He takes out five bullets, leaving only one and puts the revolver back in place. They need to _wait_. That’s what Techno told him to do and so he shall, but what’s the harm in a little fun?

“Techie, how bout a game of Russian roulette, hm?” Dream spins the revolver as he walks around the museum floor, breaking the glass meant to conserve artifacts but never taking the items inside the glass. He doesn’t need to. 

The hybrid looked up from the book he was reading, the couple of hostages sitting near him flinching back. “Russian roulette?” As unamused as he sounds, the hint of curiosity coating his voice didn’t go over Dream’s head. “Is it just us two playing?”

Dream laughs, the impatient sort of laugh Techno understood quite intimately despite being Dream’s partner for three months. “Of _course_ not! It’s them. Keep up, Techie.” 

Techno uncrosses his legs, sliding off of the counter leaving the book behind. The hybrid takes slow, calculated steps towards the trigger happy blond; flicking his braid off of his shoulder. “Okay. Any rules you want to add in particular?” He reached his hand out for the gun, which Dream gave him happily. 

“Best three out of five?” Dream steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know the rules. Aim for the head. If they die, that’s a loss.” He shrugged, “and if they don’t, that’s a dub. Simple as that.”

“I understand.” The pinkette hums, checking the bullet compartment. Last time they played, Dream loaded in five bullets and he sort of expected that to be the case now. Technoblade enjoys playing with five bullets. “Best three out of five so…” Techno looks around the room. A man sitting at the furthermost edge of the lobby caught his eye; wide baby blue eyes staring back at him, glassy and red as tears began to fall. Techno aims his gun and pulls the trigger without a second thought.

He intentionally made the bullet miss.

“Missing on purpose?” The blond takes the gun, loading in a bullet. Mimicking Techno’s way of selection, spinning around the room wildly, allowing his gun to guide him. Eventually he stops and the way the hostage trembles before the barrel of his gun is intoxicating. He revels in it for a beat longer, a sickening smile spreading across his face as his hands begin to tremble in pure excitement. 

He shoots. Scoring a point. 

Techno scoffs, “you’re sick in the head.” 

“It was _thrilling_ , Techie.” He grips the handle of it. Reliving what he just experienced over, and over, and over again in his mind. “That was fucking great.”

The score is now 1-0. 

Techno reached his hand out for the weapon and Dream gave it to him, albeit a bit hesitant this time. Which was mainly due to the fact that he wanted to live in that moment that passed minutes ago. 

“What happens if one of us wins?” Techno plates a bullet into the holder, spinning the revolver with ease. 

“Well,” Dream hums, tightly clasping his hands together as he watched Techno choose his next target. It brings an amused smile to his face because Techno is clearly waiting to hear the answer before choosing. “If I win, we go downtown and wreak havoc.”

“Nobody’s gonna be there. Sure you understand that.” 

“And, if you win,” The blond sways on the balls of his feet, “you get to handle those fuckers outside.” Techno snaps his head towards Dream, while attempting to look unphased, his eyes wore ‘ _you’re on_ ’ in bright colors. “How does that sound?” 

“I _suppose_ I can agree to those terms.” 

The score quickly tied. 2-2.

Loading in another bullet, he hummed to himself as he selected. Dream continued to chase after the excitement he felt earlier today. Holding his gun the same way he did, positioning it in the exact position- everything, yet it never came. The reaction was still the same, in fact, some reacted more violently compared to others when a gun was put in their face. That should’ve been enough, but it _wasn’t_. 

He wants that feeling again. _Oh god_ , he wants that again.

As he begins pulling the trigger back, he hears something… _someone_. Dream drops the gun to his side, looking up towards the glass ceiling. Enforcements were trying to break in from the top and, judging by the way Techno walked over towards his book and calmly tucked it away, this was it.

“Roshambo?” Dream chirps. 

Techno nods. Techno balls his hand into a fist and Dream follows suit. 

“Ro…” Dream starts, bouncing their fists. “sham...” and twice, “bo!” 

The blond celebrates loudly, “yes! Rock beats scissors!” Much to Techno’s dismay. This is a hassle.

“Fine. But, we’re doing fake out since you wanna celebrate.” The hybrid snaps his fingers, grabbing his axe from his back and climbing on top of the desk and jumping away. 

Dream watches for a brief moment, turning his attention back towards the roof. He reaches into his pocket for a necklace, throwing it over his head as it adjusted itself to his neck. It’s supposed to be a charm that alters the physical perception of the user, a new weapon that Techno’s enchanter came up with. 

_Fake out, fake out, fake out_ . Dream sighs as he takes out a piece of gum. He fucking hates fake out more than any other scheme they came up with. It’s somehow always _him_ being put on the chopping board, not that he’s afraid of it, but being surrounded by officers isn’t really an ideal situation.

“Stop! Put your hands up!” 

Dream obeys. Chewing on a piece of gum as subtly as possible, he places the revolver on the ground. 

The front doors leading into the museum opened carefully, two officers peeking in before stepping out of the way so a group of officers rushed into the building; checking on the hostages left alive and horrified at those who weren’t. Of course, they remained calm. Can’t show any signs of panic or else Dream would take advantage of their weakness. The blond scoffs as a group of five approaches him carefully, two staying back with their weapons trained on him and three crowding him. 

He complies with their orders, mainly because he didn’t feel like being shot today. With magic, it’s fairly easy to treat, but it only speeds up the healing process. Last time Dream was shot, he was so exhausted that he could hardly get out of bed for classes. Usually he’d test the odds. Why? Because he’s a very lucky guy.

He isn’t worried as they snatched his hand behind his back and snap handcuffs onto his wrists. Dream isn’t scared as they lead him out of the museum and begin reciting his rights nor is he scared when they’re rough with him or fear mongering. He continues chewing on the gum, uninterested in anything being said to him. 

“What is wrong with you?” One asks, maneuvering away from the blood staining the floor. Dream smiles, practically chirping with delight at the question because _he thought they would never ask_!

The farther he was led away, the quieter the room became. But the officers leading him away didn’t seem to notice. The blond hums in a sing-song tone, “with me? Oh nothing. I’m just your normal sadomasochist with slight narcissistic tendencies.” He said quite loud, seemingly happy to tell the officers everything they wanted to hear. “Ah, but if I were you, I’d be more scared of him.”

“Of who?” They asked. Oh, how wide his smile became at that question. 

Not long afterwards, they were silenced. Techno stood next to him and panted heavily, pulling his hair as he coped with a splitting headache. Dream felt bad because it’s only going to get worse when they step outside. It always does, leaving Technoblade out of commission for a good week or so. 

Techno is strong though, so he’ll make it through. Dream isn’t giving him a choice.

“Need a break?” Dream places a hand on the other’s shoulder- Techno jumps. It was worrying. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I can handle all of them outside. Ought to take a break, Techie.” He breaks free from the handcuffs, flexing his hands and rotating his wrists. 

Techno throws his head back, murmuring a couple things to himself before shivering. “I’m okay.” He steps over the body of the officers, shaking his head every now and then. “Let’s cause chaos.”

Dream smiles, running back to pick up his revolver from the ground and returning to Techno’s side. He nods gleefully, “you took the words right out of my mouth.”


	2. he hates/he likes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream recognized that voice anywhere and, honestly, his interest peaked. It’s Sapnap, an assassin well known for his usage of fire and heat activated poisons. They’ve worked together a handful of times, most being during the summer and in scarily flammable places, and it was one of the best times he’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! im planning on updating this every sunday so stay tuned!  
> with that being said, i would like to warm for self-aggressive behavior along with sort of self-destructive tendencies. these are slight so y'all know how it be.

University is really killing him.

Dream checked his phone for the thirtieth time that day, expecting a text from his partner in crime. Techno’s been out of commission for about two weeks now with Dream checking up on him every couple hours or so. They should’ve stopped when he noticed something  _ was  _ wrong, but he knew that Techno would refuse to and because of his lapse in judgment, he hasn’t been out committing serious crimes in a while. 

He taps his fingers on his desk, impatiently watching as the text bubble lit up and just as fast as it came, it left. He hated when Techno did this with all of his heart, most times just calling the hybrid instead because that seems to be more fucking convenient. Dream wanted a response and the lack of response is making him frustrated. As much as he was tempted to just up and call Techno right then and there, he’s currently in class half listening to a lesson that’s probably important. 

Can’t really  _ listen _ if all he wants to do is seek a thrill. 

Dream looks up from his phone when the door opens, revealing a guy he’s never seen before. This is… well,  _ strange  _ to say the least. Either he’s from another class or in the wrong class, both equally amusing. But, when the teacher welcomed him into the classroom and led him in front of the whiteboard with a welcoming smile, Dream was even  _ more _ confused. This wasn’t at all funny and he didn’t gain a laugh from this. 

“Oh class!” The teacher exclaims, patting the new boy on the back. The boy was tan and significantly shorter than he was with an all white bandanna tied around his long dark black hair. He wore a white shirt with a flame on it and a long sleeved black shirt under it, black sweatpants with white stripes on the sides to accompany it. “I’d like you to meet our newest student! Introduce yourself!”

The new student smiles, “ah well.”

Dream  _ knew  _ that voice. It wasn’t the voice of anybody he’s taken hostage before and it couldn’t have been the voice of any grieving families of his victims before. So where…

“My name’s Nick and I recently moved here from Mexico. I’m not Mexican though, but my boyfriend is.”

He gasps, dropping his eyes back towards his phone because  _ holy fucking shit _ it’s  _ him _ .

Dream recognized that voice  _ anywhere _ and, honestly, his interest peaked. It’s Sapnap, an assassin well known for his usage of fire and heat activated poisons. They’ve worked together a handful of times, most being during the summer and in  _ scarily  _ flammable places, and it was one of the best times he’s ever had. 

Sapnap is  _ impulsive _ and lacks any type of rational thinking when fire is involved. Dream likes that. 

Shortly thereafter, the class ended. Dream quickly gathered his things and unlocked his phone, unlocking it and pressing on Techno’s contact immediately. He pressed the phone up to his ear as he rushed down the hallway past the other students, murmuring quick apologies to those that he bumps into. The rings a couple times before someone picks up, an unfamiliar, deeply accented voice picking up the phone.

“Hello?” 

The voice sounds young, definitely not older than he is. Giving a rough estimate, the kid had to be younger than 18- maybe 17 or 16?

“Hi! I’m…” he hesitates and throws a look over his shoulder as he separates himself from the crowd of students getting out of class. “I’m Dream. Is Technoblade there? I’d like to speak to him.” He decides on using his pseudonym, mainly due to the fact that Techno  _ might not  _ know his real name. 

(and also he doesn’t want to give his name to some random ass kid.)

“Uh yeah. Give me a second- TECHNO.” The kid screams on the other line, intense shuffling is heard. “The hell is that fucker? Phil? ‘Uve seen Techno around anywhere? Phone’s ringing nonstop.” Dream recognized the voice that responded. They’ve talked dozens of times before. “Got his friend on the phone here- said his name is Dream? You know him?”

There’s more shuffling on the other line before a peppy voice spoke, “Dream! Hey!” He says, “how’re you? Haven’t-  _ Fundy, stop hitting Tommy with a pan _ \- seen you in a while!”

“Phil! Hello!” The blond greets, attempting to match the other’s energy but falling short. Phil had so much energy and happiness for a mobster, which both disturbed him and interested him at the same time. “I’m doing great! Would be doing even better if Techno were here! Speaking of which,” Dream masked his irritation with a laugh, “the hell is that hybrid fucker?”

“Sometimes I think you forget you’re a hybrid yourself…” the oldest of the two murmurs before more shifting is heard. Dream inhales deeply at the mention of him being a hybrid, opting to forget that there’s another part of him that exists just under the surface and make the human side of him outshine the non-human. Though, forgetting has become increasingly difficult as of late. “Techno won’t be home for the next couple of hours. He’s been wonky this entire week so you shouldn’t expect consistency.”

Well, it’s not his business so he chooses not to pry anymore than he has already. Dream says his goodbyes, promptly ending the phone call afterwards. Sometimes, Dream finds himself worrying for his partner. Yeah, Techno is strong as hell and is able to think on his feet while keeping him in check, but that facade has been deteriorating recently. He often finds himself asking the pinkette if anything is wrong- if he wants to  _ talk  _ about anything because  _ nothing  _ is off limits when it’s just the two of them. Techno would decline the offer, stating that everything is fine and swiftly changing the topic. He never pushed on because it isn’t really his business. 

But now, as he strays away from his original path, he wonders if he should’ve made it his business. Then again, how would he even help? Dream could hardly pick up on social cues, much less offer emotional support to someone. He could’ve tried to, at least, get an understanding of how Techno might feel. Maybe then he could understand better. 

_ Why  _ does he even want to understand? Since when did he start caring for Techno personally? This is weird. He should stop.

Dream slips into a nearby coffee shop, finding a seat farthest away from the front counter and from humans as a whole. There’s not many that would bother talking to him to begin with; due to his infamous reputation of sudden outbursts and unruly aggression, most people make the choice to stay away from him. 

He doesn’t want to interact with them anyway.

The blond sinks into his seat, removing his book bag from his back and placing it snugly next to him. One part of him, the non-human part, is screaming at him to go to sleep. To pass into the dream realm, spark chaos in the minds of others if he  _ really  _ wants that thrill he’s been repressing so desperately. 

He looks at the palms of hands, a pair eyes staring back at him. They look as if they’re brand new; something that’s been painted neatly despite having been on his body since birth. The eyes on his hand act as eyes in the dream realm because a normal set of eyes aren’t able to see or navigate through the realm.

He hates them. He hates these things so fucking much.

This pair of eyes have caused him so much pain- the non-human part of himself have caused him so many painful  memories that he  _ wished _ he had  _ spent _ being a  _ kid- _

Dream slams his hand on the table, accepting the pain he inflicted upon himself. Despite the weird stares he received all across the cafe, he did it two more times, each time harder than the next. It felt good- taking out the anger he felt about himself on himself often did. 

“Woah! You wanna calm down there, buddy?” 

Dream snaps his head up towards the voice, flexing his hand every so often. It hurt. He liked it that way.

“Oh Sap- I mean, Nick.” Dream notices the uneasiness painted on the other’s face. Which, he guesses, is understandable. If someone repeatedly slammed their hand on the table as hard as they could people might be concerned. “When’d you get here?”

“Nevermind that! What the fuck was that whole show you just put on?” Sapnap, almost instinctively, slides into the seat across from him. Dream didn’t care much though.

He hums to himself for a moment before responding, “I’m a masochist.” Which is technically true. 

“Are you okay?”

He mulls over the question for a bit. 

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i played a vicious game of subway surfers after writing this


	3. he's seen/he saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room was empty; all except for one person sitting at a table located in the middle of the room. This man wore a pitch black suit with a cherry colored tie to compliment it. A neatly kept pair of horns perturbed from his head, curling behind his ear cleanly. 
> 
> For a moment, he thought he was staring at the devil himself. In a way, he is. 
> 
> “Um,” he turns to look at the nurse, “I don’t know this man.”

His nightmares are becoming too frequent. Too realistic.

He lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling for hours on end while his mind raced with dozens of different thoughts but never quite addressing any of them. Lately, he’s been neglecting to take his medicine that would help him with sleeping. The nurses would always sit and watch him take it, satisfied with the fake swallow he’s perfected over the years. 

He can’t sleep because if he does he’ll relive the same moment in his life over, and over, and over again. He doesn’t want to listen to his thoughts because they’ll always remind him why he’s here, yell terrible things at him, force him to contemplate terrible things- he wants to quiet them. Sometimes, during nights when his mind becomes too unbearable, he screams into his pillow until his vocal chords felt like it’ll tear. He’d silently sob into his pillow, begging for them to stop being so fucking cruel only for them to intensify tenfold. 

As the brunette lays in bed, forcing himself to focus on the sounds coming from the window next to his bed, he wonders where he would be now if he hadn’t made that mistake. If he hasn’t made such a stupid fucking mistake, perhaps he’d be home right now. Perhaps he’d be sitting in his room, strumming his guitar while Techno reads a book in the bed across from him. Perhaps he’d be with his son, planting flowers in the garden like he always wanted to. Perhaps he’d be arguing with Tommy over the smallest details. 

Maybe Phil wouldn’t see him as a disappointment.

He wants to go home. He wants that more than anything else in the world, but he knows that he’ll never truly belong because he- for some frustrating reason- always dwells on  _ everything _ . He can’t forget and he struggles with forgiving even more. 

He will never come to terms with what happened to her. He will never have an understanding to explain what he did. 

His eyes open when he hears a knock on the door, searching through his muddled memories for when he went to sleep. He doesn’t remember, but he feels tired. Sleeping wasn’t that bad, so maybe he’ll sneak in a nap today.

“Good morning!” The nurse greets and he responds with a curt nod. The clock hanging from the opposite side of his bed read 7:30. He hums and averts his eyes away from the nurse. She smiles brightly, way too bright for someone working an early morning shift at a mental institution. “How did you sleep?”

“Well.” He decides to get out of bed and get ready for the day. He chooses some clothes; just a sweater and sweatpants like every other day. The nurse asked him other questions, such as what the day is, what he dreamt about, the things he’s looking forward to today. Well, he’s always looking forward to speaking to his friends. 

During his stay, he made a friend. Her name is Niki and she’s a really sweet person. She likes watching the fish that swim in the fish tank in the living area and knows a worrying amount about fish. He likes her because she can talk a whole lot and he doesn’t have to do much, only listen to her while she rambles. He enjoys it and Niki likes it as well because there’s someone who will listen.

He quickly took his medication and shuffled into the main living area. Niki was already awake, observing the fish from the tank. He goes to join her without a second thought, showing her the warmest smile he could muster despite feeling so hopelessly cold. 

“Did you sleep last night?” Niki asks while she takes a closer look at him. He feigns confusion.

“What do you mean? Of course I did!” He laughs and Niki didn’t laugh with him, concern written over her face.

“Why are you skipping your medication?” 

“I’m- Niki, I’m not skipping my medication.” He tries to reassure her, but she’s skeptical. She saw right through his facade before trained professionals did which… disturbed him… to say the least.

Somehow, he felt cared for when Niki battered down on him. She’s very observant, which makes him scared, but she always checks up on those she cares about when she sees something is wrong. She cares for him. He wants her to stay safe, protected, because he would lose it if he lost another woman he cared about.

“Hm…” she shakes her head, “stop skipping them. You need to take them.” Niki pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, giving him a firm and unwavering gaze. He rolls his eyes and turns his attention towards the fish, crossing his arms over his torso. 

“Okay.” He murmurs, following one of the fish with his eyes. It’s about time for breakfast anyway. He wasn’t hungry this morning. “Thank you for worrying about me. My dad would probably kill me if he knew.”

Niki smiles, “how is your dad? Oh, and your son too?” She shifts in her wheelchair a bit, moving her eyes away from him and back on the tank. They recently got a new fish. Niki named it noodle.

“My dad? He’s the same as always, you know.” He sighs, although he became a bit more lively at the topic of his son. His sweet boy, his champion. He hasn’t seen his son in person for almost four years, but he’s talked to him over the phone. Hearing his son’s voice is always a highlight of his day despite the rarity of it happening. “Fundy is… he’s a sweet boy. Tommy told me that he’s a very energetic spirit.”

“That’s nice.” She raises her hand which startled him a bit. Niki silently asked for permission to touch him, which he granted after a moment of processing. She rubs his shoulder gently, going as slow as possible so she doesn’t scare him. 

He smiles. He felt a lot warmer compared to this morning.

They are breakfast together. At some point, Niki started talking about her partner, Minx. She said that Minx is visiting her today and she looked so excited, and he felt excited for her. He’s talked to Minx a couple times before and they got along extremely well. 

He thinks he’ll leave them alone this time. 

Breakfast ended on a good note. He isn’t sure what to do with the rest of his time. Niki leaves after breakfast for personal hygiene while he stays in the living area. He could probably go outside, stretch his wings and maybe even go for a fly. The other residents are always fascinated with his wings and amazed when he takes flight. 

A majority of the population are humans with no animal mutations. Hybrids are common, common enough to have laws put in place to stop discrimination against them and to have some hybrids in immeanse places of power (his father being a prime example), but not common enough to construct an accurate timeline of when hybrids began showing up. 

He sits outside on his stomach to avoid applying pressure on his wings. They were safely binded to his back (as safe as one could  _ get _ ) and it felt uncomfortable. Painful, even, at times. The only time he ever really gets to let them out and stretch them is during bedtime and, occasionally, group therapy. However, during the times he’s allowed to in group therapy, others always touch his wings.

It’s weird and he didn’t like it. 

In the middle of his impromptu sunbathing session, a nurse approaches him. The nurse crouched besides him, a warm smile greeting him as he pays attention to whatever this guy has to say. Most of the other nurses maintain a distance between him and them but this one  _ chooses  _ to get close to him. He doesn’t know how to feel. 

“You have a visitor.” The nurse says, as simple and sweet as one could get. He nods, getting up from the grass and following the nurse to the visiting center. It felt weird going there. Something doesn’t feel right.

The demeanor of this nurse felt… off. 

The room was empty; all except for one person sitting at a table located in the middle of the room. This man wore a pitch black suit with a cherry colored tie to compliment it. A neatly kept pair of horns perturbed from his head, curling behind his ear cleanly. 

For a moment, he thought he was staring at the devil himself. In a way, he is. 

“Um,” he turns to look at the nurse, “I don’t know this man.”

Now that he thinks about it, has he ever seen this nurse before?

“Wilbur.” The horned figure speaks, “sit. We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah schlatty patty is here,,,,,, what he gonna do


	4. he's safe/they're safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “About three days.” The ram shrugs, averting his eyes down at the table. “I’ve been hanging out with Ranboo- oh wait!” He giggles to himself as he gestures between the two. “I haven’t introduced you two have I? Big Q, this is Ranboo, my bodyguard.” Tubbo waves his hands in Quackity’s direction, “and Ranboo, this is Quackity. He’s my dad’s husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading this today bc,,,, schoolwork so y'all can forgive me for not uploading on Sunday mmk
> 
> tags are liable to change as i navigate this fic so,,, take a gander at those bitches 
> 
> & yeah that's about it

Tubbo taps his fingers on the table rhythmically, watching as each person passed him through the window with a gentle sigh. It felt weird being in such a public place like this considering that his father always encouraged staying on the downlow, never being memorable enough for people to remember, never being the one people would want to talk about. 

Ranboo, his bodyguard, sat next to him with a cup of coffee cradled in between his hands. He watched Tubbo closely, though he was much more grounded when he had something to keep him out of his mind- something to hold. Tubbo would often allow Ranboo to hold his hand and it’s nice. 

Today is different though. Tubbo is supposed to meet someone today, someone important, and Ranboo isn’t sure who. Tubbo was vague when he initially explained it and, even now, still continues that pattern. 

Tubbo’s eyes brighten as he watches a man land very carefully on the ground, pure white wings tucking themselves behind the man in question. The ram hybrid gasps happily, jumping out of his seat and clambering out of the coffee shop. Ranboo chases after him, stopping after witnessing Tubbo fall into the man’s arms while an excited laugh escapes his throat. The man hugs back, fondly petting the ram’s head and… Tubbo leans into it.

Ranboo steps out the way as Tubbo led the man into the coffee shop, taking a moment to process what he just saw. Engulfed by his curiosity, he goes in after the two and sits in the seat he had previously, his hands finding its way back to the sides of the cup. 

“How long have you been here, Tubbo?” The winged man starts off, shifting in his seat for a moment before giving his full attention to the ram hybrid. 

“About three days.” The ram shrugs, averting his eyes down at the table. “I’ve been hanging out with Ranboo- oh wait!” He giggles to himself as he gestures between the two. “I haven’t introduced you two have I? Big Q, this is Ranboo, my bodyguard.” Tubbo waves his hands in Quackity’s direction, “and Ranboo, this is Quackity. He’s my dad’s husband.”

Dad’s  _ what- _

The boss has a husband? Since fucking when? He’s been working for Schlatt for almost half a year, yet he has never seen- much less has anyone  _ mentioned _ \- that the boss is  _ married _ . He hasn’t even seen a wedding band on the boss’s finger. 

Ranboo’s eyes darted towards Quackity’s hand, again, no ring in sight. He then looks back at Tubbo. 

“I didn’t know the boss was married.” Ranboo mutters, surprise painting his face. Quackity, slightly amused by this reaction, laughs to himself.

“Let’s keep it that way, yeah?” The winged hybrid says and Ranboo complies wholeheartedly, mostly due to the fact that other, newer house staff might have their fucking minds blown. Not only that, but Tubbo has  _ two fathers _ ? Who would’ve guessed?

Tubbo observes the interaction, happy that his two favorite people are getting along. He hums happily, spinning from side to side in his chair as the short interaction took place. It felt nice.

“What are… what type of Aviator are you?” Ranboo questions, sending glances towards the other man’s wings. He’s a bit surprised, mostly due to the fact that Quackity is allowed to have his wings out in an eatery. In New York, all hybrids with wings have to put them away; mostly because they don’t want feathers around the place. 

“I’m a duck!” Quackity puffs his chest out with pride, crossing his arms over his chest. “A call duck, to be more specific.”

Well, that certainly makes more sense. Call ducks are seen as decorative ducks, raised with the sole purpose of being pranced around as a prize. Ranboo nods, but it still doesn’t explain why Quackity is never with the boss. Call ducks are always with their spouses- the wife or husband of a call duck more or less  _ owns  _ them. 

This doesn’t make  _ any  _ sense at all.

“Big Q,” Tubbo buts in, immediately grabbing the attention of them both. “Uh… I just wanted to know when you’re coming home?” Tubbo scratches his head nervously. Ranboo impulsively places a hand on Tubbo’s knee, training his eyes on the smaller boy for any signs that he was uncomfortable with it. Instead of swatting his hand away, he leans into the touch. “Two years is a long time away from home, isn’t it?”

Quackity smiles, albeit sadly, and ruffles the ram’s hair fondly. He’s hiding something, they both knew.

“It’s complicated, Turbo.” That was the end of one conversation, leading directly into another. “Is your father in Florida as well?”

“He is.” Tubbo answers, “he said he had some business to take care of so I haven’t seen him since the plane landed.” 

“How long ago was that?”

Tubbo shrugs, never really being good at keeping track of the time. Ranboo steps on his behalf, “three days ago.” 

The color drains from Quackity’s face, the man immediately glancing around the establishment frantically after hearing the amount of days.  _ Nobody  _ has seen  _ Schlatt  _ in over  _ three fucking days?! _

Ranboo didn’t understand the panic. Sure, the boss could be a scary person, but he’s not  _ that  _ much of a scary person if you’re on his good side. Quackity  _ is  _ on Schlatt’s good side right? They’re married and Tubbo likes him, and if Tubbo likes  _ anyone _ , the boss goes soft on them. 

Quackity isn’t supposed to be here. Ranboo pieced that together rather quickly.

The boss  _ owns  _ him. 

And Quackity went rogue.

As if on cue, a bullet is shot into the coffee shop, grazing the duck’s face as it passes. That one was intentional. 

Everyone panics. Ranboo pushed Tubbo under the table, both he and Quackity following shortly thereafter. They waited a moment as more gunshots echoed throughout the shop. Tubbo had a wing put over his shoulder that pulled him closer to Quackity, though he didn’t seem phased by any of this at all. Ranboo thought that in of itself is by far scarier than the bullets piercing through the air. 

Quackity grabbed his attention with a wave of a hand. “Get Tubbo out of here when you see the opportunity.” He instructed, instinctively pulling Tubbo closer to him as another bullet tore through the window. After a moment he releases the boy reluctantly, the wing tucking itself back to his side. 

He gives Tubbo to Ranboo with a simple pinch on the ram’s arm and a reassuring smile. The ram didn’t reciprocate it, averting his eyes towards the floor sadly at the gesture. 

Pinches in duck hybrid culture signified trust and love. It’s the gesture Quackity always did to him right before disappearing into oblivion.

The duck carefully crawled away from the table as the shots began to slow down, taking a deep breath and counting the time in between shots. In one breath, he takes a leap of faith and stands, quickly running out the store and flying away as fast as he could. The hitmen, no longer interested in the cafe, chased down their target and the gun fire ceased immediately. 

A breath of relief escaped Ranboo’s mouth as he relaxed visibly. They were safe, perhaps, but he still needed to get Tubbo out of here. The hitmen most likely work for the boss and if the boss finds out they’re  _ here  _ and that they met  _ him _ , he’s dead.

So inexplicably dead that the word dead doesn’t do him enough justice.

Ranboo grabs Tubbo’s hand, running out of the cafe before the cops arrive. He ran as far as possible. Away from all that, away from emotions, away from Tubbo’s scary ass dad- just  _ away _ . 

Tubbo pulls at his sleeve a couple times, telling Ranboo to slow down. Eventually, he does, panting heavily as Tubbo pressed a hand on his back. He isn’t sure where they are. 

“Are…” he huffs, “are you…. okay?”

The ram tilted his head to the side, “are  _ you  _ okay?” 

“Who cares about me, Tubbs?” 

“I do, Ranboo!” The brunette exclaims, waving his hand in nonsensical ways. Ranboo is a bit taken aback by the outburst, but remains quiet. “We just got shot at and you’re over here worrying about  _ my  _ well-being? What about you!” 

What about him? He’s scared, of course, but he refuses to demonstrate his fear outwardly. Ranboo’s job is to protect Tubbo and, because he cares about Tubbo too much, he’ll protect the ram with everything he has. 

For his own sake, he took the ram’s hand into his own with a wobbly smile. He looks at their hands for a moment as he calms his heart which, at this point, he’s more than sure that Tubbo is able to feel his heartbeat from his palm. He feels a pair of eyes searing into his chest as their hands connect, obviously wanting to ask questions but stopping himself short. 

Ranboo never lets go of Tubbo’s hand, steadying himself mentally. “I only care about you.” 

It was the honest-to-God truth. 

Tubbo nods his head in understanding, but keeps his comment to himself and saves them for a later time. Ranboo squeezes his hand and Tubbo squeezed back, gingerly and tightly. He’s safe. They’re safe.

**Author's Note:**

> (this user wrote this while watching connoreatspants)  
> also, this is a gift for my bestie bc i GUESS shes swag. idk if she is tho


End file.
